


A partridge in a pear tree

by TheAwfulDodger



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: 12 Days of Christmas, Blood and Gore, Christmas Presents, Dubcon Kissing, First Kiss, Joker's sick sense of humor, Licking an ashtray, Possible Squick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-19 23:43:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9465854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAwfulDodger/pseuds/TheAwfulDodger
Summary: Written for LJ's batmanjoker Secret Santa 2009.Prompt: While doing the nightly rounds on Christmas Eve, Batman comes across a giant purple and green present sitting in the middle of the road. But what's inside?





	

It rarely snowed in Gotham City, but when it did, it wasn’t the fluffy white Christmas-y kind of snow. No, it was the dirty, grey variety that turned into sludge as soon as it touched the pavement, coating Gotham’s streets in slippery wet gloop. It was even worse in the Narrows, where the snow mixed with the general debris on the streets and turned into a dangerous mess. One could never know what was beneath the greyish sludge in the Narrows, broken glass or maybe even a few used needles.  
But something different was sitting on the snowy pavement in the Narrows. The big green and purple package was really out of place between the overstuffed garbage bags and dumpsters, it’s cheerful wrapping paper soaking up the wet snow. It was about as big as the dumpsters it was sitting next to, resembling it in shape as well as size. The locals instinctively avoided going near it, anything even vaguely Joker-related was given a wide berth. 

The Bat wasn’t a local though. He’d come across the package on a routine patrol through the Narrows, and he cautiously approached it. It wasn’t ticking. That was a good thing. The slow drip coming from one of the corners, staining the wrapping paper and the snow underneath a rusty reddish brown wasn’t a good thing… His gauntlet made a dull thud as Batman laid a hand on the package, grabbing an edge of the cheery polka dotted purple and green paper. Tearing it off with a loud rip, it wasn’t surprising to find a dumpster underneath the paper. Bruce growled, checked his surrounding and tore off the rest of the paper, cursing the Joker under his breath. What was the clown up to?

He grabbed the dumpster’s lid and flung it open. This time, he was surprised. He had been expecting a body inside, but the sight that greeted him wasn’t one body… it was an entire pile of bodyparts, filling up the dumpster. Bruce drew back in surprise as he recognised the clothes the mangled corpses were wearing. It was the Gotham Drum and Piper band. A note was pinned on the topmost torso, the bloodstained blue and gold jacket it was wearing leaving reddish smudges on the crumpled piece of paper.  
Batman carefully unpinned the note from what was left of the poor drummer, smoothing it a little before reading.

 

“Dear Bats,

Only eleven more days until it’s Christmas. I hope you’ll enjoy your presents! It took me a lot of …shopping… to find them. And you know what the stores are like around Christmas! Everybody just goes CRAZY!

J.”

 

****

A week later, and Bruce was standing on MCU’s roof. Jim Gordon was as frustrated as he was, as they were no closer to apprehending the Joker. Gotham’s citizens were becoming terrified, and it wasn’t going to be a very cheerfull holiday if they didn’t catch the mad clown soon. More “gifts” had been turning up, all of them wrapped in green or purple paper, all of them addressed to Batman. 

It had started with the mangled remains of 23 members of the Gotham Drum and Piper band, stuffed in a dumpster together. Nineteen little students of Gotham’s street dance school had followed two days later, duct taped together in a shipping container. The kids had been drugged, dehydrated and hysterical, but no worse for wear.   
The following day there had been eight prostitutes in the Narrows, their throats slashed before they were strung together and decorated with Christmas lights and purple and green colored ribbons.

Then it became personal. The Moscow Ballet had been in town to perform Swan Lake on Christmas eve, but the performance had to be cancelled as seven of the ballerina’s had disappeared, only to be found floating in the river, chained together and anchored by a block of concrete. They were dead. Natascha, the prima ballerina that Bruce had dated, was amongst them. And again, a note from the Joker was found with the corpses, the writing almost loving in tone.

Yesterday, there had been six geese, stuffed in a cheery green box, their entrails serving as ribbons to decorate it. It had been left on top of the Tumbler. How could he have missed that?! HOW COULD HE HAVE MISSED THE CLOWN?! It frustrated Bruce to no end. He knew he was failing miserably in catching the mad clown, knew that this killing spree had to be stopped. But he just couldn’t manage to catch him. And every time he turned his back, he felt that the Joker was standing right behind him, laughing his head off.

Today’s “present” was just as bad. Batman wordlessly handed Gordon the little purple box, and the Commisioner carefully opened the lid, closing it quickly with a look of distaste. Inside it were five ring fingers, all of them neatly manicured ladies’ fingers. All of them still wearing their gold wedding band.

“Well-” Gordon sighed “-at least these will be easy to identify.”

****

Even though Bruce was starting to expect the worst, the presents never failed to disgust him. It had been eight days since he had found the dumpster full of body parts, and 38 people had died so far, assuming that the five women who had lost their ring fingers to the insane clown were still alive. Today was a good day, nobody had died. Today’s present had been another dumpster, this one not filled with dead bodies thankfully. No, this one had been rigged as a giant bomb, sticks of TNT taking all the available space around the dumpster’s four unwilling occupants. 

Colleen Byrd and her three children had been well-restrained with duct tape, another one of the Joker’s notes taped to Colleen’s head. Her children, age 2, 5 and 7, were wailing behind their duct tape gags, and Colleen herself was out cold, blood sluggishly running from a wound on the back of her head. They had been lucky, Bruce was only just in time to disable the bomb. He had left the distraught four in the capable hands of ambulance staff, taking the Joker’s note with him.

“Batsy,

Well done! You got there in time! Wouldn’t want poor Colleen blown to Byrdfood, now would we? I’m betting you get the gist of my little string of presents about now. Question is, what have you bought me?

 

J”

***

The next day brought three tourists from France, ghastly smiles carved onto their faces and neatly gift wrapped in garish purple paper before they were thrown out of a school bus in front of the MCU. Batman was growing tired of this game, and dreading the oncoming holidays. He feared the clown would like to end his string of gifts with a big bang.

***

Christmas Eve was the moment Bruce had an epiphany. He was prying two white doves from the dead hands of The Great Zonko to get at the note Joker had left him. The Great Zonko was a magician slash comedian, something like Tommy Cooper, Bruce reckoned. Not his kind of humor, but better then the clown’s still. It seemed the Moscow Ballet wasn’t the only cancelled performance tonight…

 

***

The Pear Tree was one of the more expensive restaurants in Gotham. Bruce had visited it a couple of times, mostly with some dim-witted model on his arm as a part of keeping up his playboy-appearance. But he wasn’t dining there tonight. Instead, Bruce had been hidden on a rooftop across from the Pear Tree all day, disguised as Batman, blending in to the shadows. Lunch had been uneventfull, the expensive cars coming and going. It had quieted down in the afternoon, but now the dinner-guests were arriving. 

Bruce was sure the Joker would not arrive through the front door, so he started another lap around the building, sneaking from rooftop to rooftop in the growing darkness. He had no visual of the mad clown, but a gunshot inside the Pear Tree’s kitchen told him his hunch was right. It took little effort to shoot his grappling hook into the building’s façade and swing himself through one of the dining room’s windows.

His unexpected entry and the breaking glass only seemed to add to the mayhem inside the restaurant. People were screaming, henchmen were running and aiming their weapons at random people, but in the middle of the chaos, there was the Joker. The eye of the storm. The center of this madness.

The Joker was dressed in his usual purple and green suit, a knife in his gloved hand. The knife was pressed against the throat of a fat, balding man in an expensive suit, who was currently sweating bullets. Bruce recognised him as Mr. Partridge from Partrigde, Smith and Hart, a high-end law firm. Joker was not at all surprised to see him, Batman realised, as he watched the grin on the clown’s face grow wider.

“I see you -ah- made it, Bats. How smart of you to figure it out!” the Clown exclaimed, the hand clutching the knife hovering dangerously close to Partridge’s skin. 

“Let him go!” Batman growled in return, stalking closer to the Joker, who waggled an admonishing finger at the Dark Knight. 

“Ah ah ah! Not until I get MY present!” The Joker sing-song’ed as he pressed the lethal blade against Partridge’s neck. Batman took another step closer, watching the henchmen from the corner of his eye. Police sirens could be heard in the distance, heading their way. Someone in the restaurant must have been able to call the police.

Joker motioned upwards with his head, urging Bruce to look above the clown. Absurdly enough, there was a sprig of mistletoe hanging above the madman. It took Bruce a second to realise what the Joker wanted.

“…you’re insane…” he growled, stalking another step closer to his prey. If he coul only distract the Clown long enough to free Partride from the knife to his throat, he could defuse the situation and overpower the Clown. A mad cackle was his answer.

“Insane?” the clown breathed “Didn’t you like your presents Batsy?” Another step brought Batman within arm’s reach. 

“Do it and I’ll let them go, Bats. Scout‘s honour.” The Joker whispered, only loud enough for Batman and his unfortunate hostage to hear. 

Staring into the clowns eyes for a moment, Bruce saw nothing but madness swirling in the green pools, madness and obsession. This could save lives, or it could be another trap. But he was sure of one thing, Mr. Partridge would not live to see another Christmas if he didn’t do it. And that alone was worth it.

“…fine.” he ground out, highly uncomfortable with the entire situation. The police sirens were a lot closer now, Bruce realised, as he watched Joker fling Mr. Partridge into the waiting arms of one of his clown-henchmen, who immediately pressed a gun against the poor man’s head. 

Forcing himself to take another step closer, Batman was now nose to nose with the Joker. The clown smelled of old sweat and make-up, an unpleasant, nose-tingling scent, and it took all his willpower to lean forward and press his lips against the ruby red lips, trying not to think of the nicotine stained crooked teeth.

It was like licking an ashtray. As soon as Bruce’s lips touched Joker’s, the clown seemed to latch onto him like an octopus, thrusting his tongue into the Bat’s mouth and wrapping his wiry limbs around the armor-clad form. What lasted only seconds felt like hours to Bruce, and he knew he’d never feel clean again, no matter how much mouthwash or toothpaste he used… The Joker’s teeth gnawed on his tongue and lips, and Bruce managed to end the kiss only by physically wrenching the Clown away from him. He felt like gagging.

Joker on the other hand, seemed to be in heaven. His green eyes had glassed over, tongue licking around the scarred lips almost frantically. The madman didn’t see the armour-clad fist coming, one single blow from Bruce took him out cleanly. The slighter man crumpled to floor unconscious. Batman cleared his throat and spat several times to get the awful taste of cigarettes and unbrushed teeth out of his mouth, unmindful of the Joker’s henchmen who were looking on in amazement. 

Jim Gordon also felt like gagging. His SWAT team had entered the restaurant just in time to see the mad clown latch on to the Caped Crusader as a starving man latching on to a Sunday roast. The entire scene was quite distasteful, his SWAT team had no problem overpowering the Joker’s men as they seemed to be enthralled by the scene. Batman just cuffed the Joker’s wrists behind him and left him on the floor for Gordon’s men.

The Commissioner caught the Dark Knight’s eye as vigilante started to leave, frowning as he saw the red lickstick smeared across the Batman’s face and mask. Gordon motioned at his own face with a grimace of distaste.

“You got a little something…on your face…”

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: And what did Joker get Batsy for Christmas?
> 
> 12 drummers and 11 pipers of the Gotham City Drum and Piper band, cut in to neat chunks.  
> 10 boys and 9 girls from the street dance class, drugged but alive in a shipping container.  
> 8 prostitutes, strung together with ribbons and lights. Festive eh?  
> 7 ballerina’s from the Moscow Ballet, drowned in the river.  
> 6 dead and gutted geese on top of the Tumbler.  
> 5 chopped of ring fingers with wedding bands.  
> 4 colly birds, being Colleen Byrd and her three kids, almost blown to smithereens.  
> 3 French tourists, given Glasgow smiles and wrapped in purple paper.  
> 2 Magician’s doves, clutched in the Magician’s dead hands.  
> 1 Mr. Partridge in restaurant The Pear Tree Room.


End file.
